pacing privately through my own version
of myself. guided through water with
minimal effort; a mother with
her infant in a green pool turning
slow-swoosh circles. my shadow lets me
go; sends me out seeking texture and
light - sends me out
from a core of memory that stores
life in splinters. fragments of music,
a litter of tones. it's all
sun through the branches. it's all jokes
and stories begun, trailing down
to forgetful overgrowth before reaching
any destination. i keep beginning with
this feeling: giant songs building nests,
resettling to digest broken off hopes in
scatter; restless integration. a malcontent at
peace in moment's pressurized; released
to stifle time spent, to send me slipping off a
glitch in eternity's upslope - a stitch in time's
side, a joke to leave one in the stitches
dropped time's nine saved again, if only,
if i could only recall
how it ends.